Sins of The Father
by Tormented One
Summary: I haven't been able to shake this idea of "What if Jack was sent with John to hunt down his father's old gang?" and this is the result.
1. Sins of the Father

He had come to John's ranch with armed men in the evening. Just outside, on the porch and requested that a "Mister Marston" come out and discuss business with him.

The moment the door opened, he had his gun trained on John and had his men rushing inside and dragging everyone out with them.

 ** _Some time later_**

John couldn't believe his ears or eyes. Ross not only wanted him to hunt down his old gang, but wanted his son to go with him.

His untrained son.

His inexperienced son.

His far too young son.

His son.

"No! He is not coming with me! This is too dangerous for him!" John ranted in a stern voice, worried he wouldn't be able to protect his only surviving child.

One loss had been bad enough, and to a disease that killed grown men.

This however, was entirely different. Jack would be facing thugs with him, hunting and fighting criminals!

"If I make one mistake, he could die." John continued.

Ross didn't falter, and grinned.

"Then make no mistakes at all, Mr. Marston." Ross ordered.

John had no idea what was going through this mad man's head.

"Why do you think this is a good idea?" John qiestionned Ross, hoping he could get an answer of some sort from him.

"I never thought it was a good idea, just a way to save money. I can only afford to keep your wife, Abigail, housed and guarded. Doing this stops me from overspending and letting someone starve or be unprotected." Ross explained, grinning all the way through.

"You really are something else, mister." John was surprised by the explanation, but saw it as more of a threat that he should agree or lose someone again.

"Fine, I'll take Jack with me. Just let me give him some equipment and we'll be on our way to Armadillo." John spoke, hoping he could teach Jack to fend for himself in this endeavor.

"Good. Tomorrow morning is when your train departs, John. Ten o'clock to be precise. Mister Archer and I will meet you and your son their tomorrow." Ross explained. He then turned around and left.

The men put Abigail on a horse, behind one of them, with her hands tied. They rode off immediately after that, leaving Jack and Uncle standing next to John and both were just as shocked as he was.

 ** _A. N. Constructive criticism is welcome. This is just an idea I had and I want to pursue it. Updates may take extensive amounts of time._**


	2. Punishment of The Son

**A. N. Please forgive me for taking so long with this. I am trying to make this good and capture the 'father-son' dynamic and make this an interesting read.**

The next morning, John had helped to equip Jack with a gun belt, similar to his own and a Cattleman's revolver to match. They left the ranch just after dawn on foot, leaving the horses at the ranch under the watchful, whiskey tinted, eyes of Uncle.

Their destination was currently Blackwater Station and their goal was to get to Armadillo. Jack felt uneasy about this.

John was a nervous wreck, but his stoic and blunt personality hid it well. This both reassured Jack and confused him.

"Are you nervous about this, Pa?" he asked with genuine concern.

"Of course I'm nervous." John answered truthfully.

"You don't seem like it. You look like you're having a normal day."

"Do I really look like that?" John was surprised by this information.

"Yeah, but then again you almost always look like that regardless." Jack explained, hoping they might get to know eachother better with this conversation.

"Probably from my upbringing, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Hey, now don't get smart. I really don't know and so, sometimes you gotta make an assumption when you don't know." John explained.

"I thought assumptions only lead to trouble. Is this you trying to teach me about something?"

John smiled at his son as they walked.

"Maybe, you just need to know when and where to make those assumptions and you'll be fine. It's making them all the time that's trouble."

"Well that sounds great and all, but how will I know 'when and where?'" Jack asked, quoting with his fingers.

"You can only learn that through experience." John answered, finishing the conversation.

Jack saw Blackwater out in the distance.

"Hey, Pa. When is our train supposed to depart?" Jack felt worry at the thought of missing the train.

"Around noon. We'll make it." he reassured him, feeling the same worry over his wife if they missed that train.

They spent the rest of the walk in silence. Once they reached the edge of town, they went straight to the station.

After reaching the station, they saw Ross and Fordham. John approached first, his son following close behind.

"Okay, Ross. When we get to Armadillo, what next?" John hoped this would be simple.

"Not so simple John, walk with me. Mr. Fordham, watch the young Marston." he ordered, making Fordham keep Jack as he and John walked over to the nearby cruise ship on the Eastern river.

Jack decided to wait in silence. Fordham seemed to agree if his quiet stare was anything to go by.

Time passed in silence.

Niether were very keen to speak to one another.

Fordham reached into his jacket, Jack watching him cautiously. The agent pulled out a cigarette and box of matches.

Jack didn't stop watching him.

Fordham looked over to the clock to see that an hour had passed rather quickly.

They continued waiting. The train finally arrived, and soon after Ross did as well with John in tow.

Ross gestured for them to get on the train. They went without question.

After they borded the train, they sat and waited in silence. Jack, however, was curious about what he and Ross had spoken about.

"So, what happened during your meeting with that 'Ross' guy?" he asked, worried about what happened during their 'meeting.'

John looked to his son, and decided this wasn't worth lying about.

"He wanted me to know what's at risk right now. To scare me into following orders." John answered simply, shame in his voice.

"We know what's at risk." Jack tried to reassure him before getting interrupted.

"Yeah, you. Your mother, Uncle, Hell all of us!" John exclaimed, glad the cart was still empty so no one would over hear.

"Jack, he wants us to stay quiet about this too. If anyone finds out and Ross learns about it, we're all dead." John could only let his head hang in shame from how powerless he was currently.

Jack simply stayed silent. He hoped he could help in these upcoming, dire, weeks and maybe prove himself to the world.

A thought came to him.

 _I'm thinking of proving myself right now. That just seems selfish. The world can burn for all I care!_ _The lives of my family are in danger!_

A look of anger flashed across his face as John relaxed looking out the window.

People started bording the train, including their cart.

The father and son could only passively over hear their surroundings.

A priest and young church girl discussing theology and the natives, how the settlers brought them 'God.'

Two local old bags, aristocrats. They conversed over something similar.

The two conversations carried in different directions but the two Marstons stopped caring to listen.

Something about men flying and the new governor.

The train went through Hennigan's Stead, stopping in some small town. A blonde woman exited the train cart. The train kept going for Armadillo.

It was already late afternoon when they arrived. They shared a quick look and exited the train cart to be greeted by Armadillo Station.

John walked first with Jack following three paces behind, a bitter look on both of their faces.

John went straight to the saloon, telling Jack to wait outside while he went in. Jack waited, keeping watch and noticing three horses hitched sloppily as if a drunk man tied them off.

The horses looked fine though.

John walked in to be greeted by an old man with a working girl in his lap, giggling and feeling his pockets.

The old man waved him over.

"Mr. Marston! Over here!" he shouted, standing up from the couch and pushing the working girl away.

John moved closer and through the saloon, but didn't speak. The old man seemed energetic though.

"I'm Jake. Your friends in Blackwater told me you were- wait. There's supposed to be two of you." Jake cut himself off.

"The other is outside, waiting." he explained calmly.

"Well, anyway. Your friends in Blackwater told me about you." he continued.

"They ain't my friends." he interrupted, but was ignored.

Jake led him back outside and to the horses. He met Jack the moment he stepped out the door, almost tackling him.

He walked right into Jack and both almost fell to the ground.

"Oh, sorry about that, just had too much to drink." Jake apologized, leaning against the wall of the saloon.

Jack noticed his father behind him, still calm and he decided to follow that.

John spoke up, trying to explain to Jake.

"Jake, take us to the horses already. This is the 'other one' you were told about, Jack Marston." he explained, wanting to be done with this as soon as possible.

Jake straightened up, and led the two over to the horses.

"Here they are. They don't look like much, but they're sturdy." he rambled as they mounted the horses and rode from town.

 **A.N. This chapter was originally going to be longer, but something went wrong as I was saving it and another I was working on, which got completely ruined because nearly the whole of both got unsaved. This story will still have the most care put into it nonetheless.**


	3. Pain and Stupidity

**A. N. I hate Jake. Furthermore, I would like to have RDR2 but currently don't have the money to pay for it right now. I will use bits and pieces of it's story to add to this story. I don't know everything, so don't expect it to be perfect.** **Again, I** **hate Jake and his filler** **dialogue.**

 **It will be skipped.**

The father and son duo had finally arrived at Fort Mercer after what seemed like an hour long ride on their horses. They had their differences but one similarity is how much they hated the ride here.

Jake would not stop yammering on about one thing or another.

The two were stood at the path outside of the entrance and surrounded by the remains of what looked to be a failed siege.

"Welp, I guess this is where I say my good byes and head back to town." Jake said plainly, and finally departing to leave the two in silence.

John looked over to his son and saw the worried shifting in his step. Hard to notice but he guessed he learned from watching him.

"You scared, son?" he asked, hoping to calm Jack.

"No, I'm fine. Honest." Jack responded, turning to look at his father.

John didn't buy it for a second.

"You know, it's okay to be afraid. To feel fear. It's what lets you know you understand what you're in for. Facing that fear regardless makes you brave." John lectured, hoping to cement this lesson as Jack had been on and off in remembering it.

Jack stayed silent for a moment. He nodded his head and turned toward the fort.

"Okay, I'm pretty scared, but I think we'll be fine." he confessed, unable to look John in the eye. Even with the optimism he felt shame.

John grinned at him and turned to the fort as they stood side by side.

"You're right, we'll be fine. This might be good for you in a way. It'll definitely be good for me." John finished, hoping his son was right.

They began walking through the debris and up the dirt path. They both kept their hands low and tried to stay relaxed.

They could feel someone watching them. They saw no one but could just feel it.

Finally, they reached the door and stood ten feet from it. John looked up to the balcony and spotted something moving.

He decided to speak.

"Bill Williamson! I know you're in there. We don't want no trouble, we just wanna talk!" he yelled, hoping this assumption was right.

They waited for a moment, hearing some whispering from the wall above the door. Then it went silent.

"Go away, John! And the same for whoever that is!" they heard Bill yell.

They both recognized his voice, sounding a little drunk. John recognized the voice of a man he once called "brother." Jack recognized a familiar sound from his early youth.

Jack decided to speak up.

"Uncle Bill! We really do want to talk!" he shouted toward the wall.

"Uncle Bill? No one has called me that since.." he started then dropped off.

He rounded the corner aiming a rifle at the two of them.

"Leave now before I kill the both of you!" he warned them.

He stopped for a moment when he recognized Jack, who looked just like John in his younger years but much calmer.

"Bill, please put the gun down. We really don't want to be violent." John tried to reason with him.

"John, take your son and go home. Now!" he ordered, not wanting to shoot a man he once respected in front of his son.

"You remember the gang we were raised into, Bill? History kinda doesn't give me a choice right now." John was hoping Bill would see reason for once.

"How is that, John?" Bill probed as his aim shifted between John and Jack.

"My family is in danger right now. The government is forcing us to find all the surviving members of that gang and either bring you all in or kill you." John explained.

Bill's temper seemed to almost go off at this news and several of his subordinates stood out from their cover aiming guns at the duo.

"Give me one good reason why we don't kill the two of you now!" Bill demanded, aiming staight for John.

"I was thinking one of two things. Either we work together to fully dismantle the g men that are making me do this. Or you could kill us now, and a brutal army of Pinkertons will come here and kill you and your men all slow like." John tried to bargain with him.

"I'll take my chances." Bill answered, turning down the offer of slaughtering pinkertons.

John started slowly backing away and Jack followed, copying his movements.

"Alright. I'm sorry it had to be this way. Just, let Jack live." John hoped this would at least protect his son.

"No!" Bill answered as he fired a single shot into John's torsoe.

Bill's second in command, Norman, fired a single shot of his own into Jack's right leg.

The two fell to the ground. John was already unconscious while Jack screamed from the pain.

"Leave 'em there. This ought to be a lesson for the next few they send around." Bill ordered.

Meanwhile, Jack was trying to crawl closer to his father. He was still breathing.

Jack looked down to his leg, seeing he had been shot in his thigh.

He tried to move his leg and bend his knee. He felt nothing but pain as he did, but could move and bend his leg.

He tried to push himself up to stand. He felt weak from the bleeding, cold. He pushed harder but his arms gave out, landing him face first in the dirt with his teeth clenched.

His vision started to go dark. He pushed again, using all the strength he had left.

With a grunt, finally, he fell and the darkness over took his vision.

Bill watched from the top of the wall. He felt a dull pain in his gut. He felt remorse. Guilt.

Norman was laughing at this turn of events.

Bill really wanted to shoot him.

Hours later, a familiar blonde woman and an unfamiliar fellow with a stagecoach dragged the two bleeding Marstons from the fort.

 **A.N. Soon, this will be acceptable.** **I have finally gotten over my writer's block, and constantly rethinking and rewriting my work. I hope the remainder of the story will be up to par with the true story of the game.**


End file.
